


See You Tomorrow

by GoodLuckMochi



Series: Tomorrow [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Epistolary, Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 20:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 7,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20513333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodLuckMochi/pseuds/GoodLuckMochi
Summary: Life is uncharacteristically busy for Draco (St Mungo's Healing Potioneer) and Harry (Auror extraordinaire), and Draco misses having the opportunity to catch up with his partner. A young, new colleague from the Continent told him about the shared diary she'd used while at school, after she and a good friend went into different scholastic tracks, and Draco knows just the book to use. It's just a fun stopgap method, while life seems to be somewhat out of hand.Until it's all Draco has left.





	1. This Poor, Neglected Book

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is my first story submission to AO3, so please be (ultimately) kind. :)
> 
> Chapter lengths will vary, based on each missive. This first chapter is pretty short, but by no means the shortest. I've written out the entirety of what I intend to post under this title, so this work is complete, though I feel I've the building blocks to work on adding closure in a later fic.

Harry

You’ve passed out already, and it’s only eight o’clock. I don’t know whether to mock you, or tuck the blanket up around you. Oh, who am I kidding, of course I’ll make sure you stay warm enough. I can save the mockery for breakfast. You’re always fun to tease when you’re just up from bed, with your defenses down and waiting for your tea.

I’ll be telling you come morning, but for an official record I might as well include it here as well. Who knows if we’ll use this book enough to even remember its purpose in a year? Hermione gave this journal to you for your birthday, oh, a year ago? You haven’t touched it since then, though you made all the right noises when you opened it at your party. You’ve even kept it at your bedside, gathering dust until one of Mother’s house elves swipes it away. If anyone were to look at your nightstand, they’d think you some sort of closet academic between the _Auror’s International_ magazine, _The Self-Updating and Annotated Collection of Pertinent Wizarding Law_ (also from Hermione, though you actually use this one on occasion), and _Hogwarts, a History **Audio Edition**_ as read by Lee Jordan in the style of our illustrious former Professor Binns (which you pull out when I’m travelling for work, and you swear it works more effectively than Dreamless Sleep).

Regardless. You’ve been away more often recently, and I’ve missed you. As our schedules are so at odds with one another, and so busy otherwise that Owling simply isn’t a practical option, I thought we might try “sharing a diary” as one of my colleagues put it. She’s fresh out of Beauxbatons, Muggleborn, and quite the romantic, but she was telling me about one she shared with her best friend when they were sorted into different scholastic tracks once they reached the appropriate school age. It would also give this poor, neglected book some purpose. The binding is lovely to look at, wouldn’t it be nice to create contents just as lovely to read in 20, 30 years’ time?

You’re snoring over there. I’ve tucked you in tightly, now, and you wrinkled your nose and pressed your face into your pillow, but you’re a bit less foetal in pose, now.

Love you, talk to you tomorrow morning

D


	2. It's Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of a glimpse into their lives.

Harry

I would write that I’m surprised, but I’m not, really. I didn’t get a chance to discuss this book with you over breakfast last week, after all, and of course you wouldn’t think to look inside, yourself, all of a sudden over a year after having received it and not yet putting it to use on your own.

That’s fine, there’s always tomorrow, I suppose. Perhaps this gives the book a more authentic flavor, eh? You’re lucky I’m so patient and thoughtful.

It’s fine. You’ll take a look eventually.

You look tired, tonight. Well, obviously you look tired, you’re passed out again. But even in sleep, tonight, you seem more vulnerable than usual. You’ve taken Dreamless Sleep, in fact, despite me not being away for work, and you’ve smudges under your eyes. I wish you’d been able to wait another hour before going to bed, you were able to stay up long enough to give me a welcome home kiss.

I’ll have to see what I can do, discuss my schedule with my superiors. You’d think the Auror would be the more likely to have unusual hours, not the Healing grade Potioneer. I’m working the unusual hours, while you’re working the longer ones. At least I know you’re sleeping; my laboratory mistakes are less likely to do me in than yours are you, at least for the bruise salves I’m restocking this week.

Those scones you made last week were divine, by the way. Blueberry maple, if you don’t recall, with little bits of some sort of nut you chopped too finely for me to identify. I expect you got the recipe from Molly, although perhaps it came from Aunt Andie, instead. As much as Molly loves to feed the family, Andie is quite partial to finger foods; I think it’s a compromise between her more privileged years and her mothering years. I don’t think maple syrup is something Molly particularly favors. Regardless of the source, though, I’ll have to put out a note with a request for more, since you certainly won’t notice my approval in here, you overworked sod.

Perhaps I’ll return the favor and prepare some Mulligatawny soup for you. You’ve always moaned over it, and I always enjoy the chopping and stirring involved, despite chopping and stirring all day for work. It’s more rewarding than work, when I get to hear your approval and know I’m caring for you, my Harry, rather than nameless, faceless patients at Mungo’s. And you wouldn’t hide it, the way most of the patients would, once they learn who’s probably had a hand in their potions and salves and tinctures and oils and mists. Never mind, you always get upset when you hear about that, and this book is for happier thoughts.

Saw Luna yesterday when I was returning to the laboratory from tea. She’s looking quite well, and told me Charles would be returning from Romania for a visit next month. I expect you’ll be happy to see him again, and a feast or three will be involved. It’s been quite some time since you were able to catch up with him, though he’ll have two families worth of people to satisfy. You’ll likely see her there, of course, and the boys, but as I’ve seen her first, I think that gives me gossiping rights. The boys are fine, and miss Charles a great deal, but they’re accustomed to their father figure flitting ‘round the world, while their mother flits elsewhere with them in tow. They miss Rolf, of course, but they’re young enough not to wallow in angst over his loss, and they’re old enough to see how happy Charles makes their mother.

She’s invited me to lunch with her and the boys, but she expects to see you during Charles’ visit, so you’ll have to get your other Luna news directly from her.

Blood Replenishing potions next week, with standard infusions in the old lab. The following week, the Wolfsbane cycle begins down there, and I’ve been assigned to cover that task. Again. I suppose I should be flattered they trust me with the brewing of it, but the responsibility is part of what’s made spending time with you more difficult.

I certainly don’t mind the brewing, and I know how much it meant to Remus and you don’t begrudge me the time spent on it, but the schedulers could give someone else the honors, for a change. They’ve sworn I’ll have December off, though, to make up for the other eleven months. That’s something!

Love you, see you tomorrow

D


	3. You Daft Savior

Harry

You’ve done it now, you stupid wanker. Have you any idea how much of my Blood Replenishing stock you’ve managed to burn through tonight? You promised you’d wrapped up all of your cases, that you’d be making dinner and setting some aside for me for when I got home in the middle of the night. How do you think it felt to wrap up my decanting tonight only to be informed on my way to the Floo that you’d come in hours ago and tomorrow’s brewing would have to be delayed to make time for more Replenishing because an Auror operation had gone bad? And wasn’t it nice that there’s really only been one serious casualty, but oh dear, I didn’t see you there Mister Malfoy, I’m sure Harry Potter will be fine, isn’t it nice that your team wrapped up on Replenishing and we had enough to keep Harry Potter going while the Healers worked on purging that nasty tangle of curses from him?

They wouldn’t let me in to see you, but they weren’t letting anyone in other than trained staff. Hermione and Ronald and George and Dean were as impatient as I was, but we were all sent home. I doubt they’d have managed to get rid of Molly, but she was busy watching William and Fleur’s children at the Burrow, and their youngest isn’t ready for the health hazard that is Hospital.

Oh, Harry, I miss you. I miss you, and I’m worried about you, and I’m tired and hungry and I’ve a headache and frankly I’m a bit lonely and I wish you were home so I could feed you and wrap you up in your favorite Weasley blanket and set the Wireless to whatever ridiculous Quidditch match you wanted to listen to tonight, and I promise I wouldn’t give you a hard time about it even though I think your refusal to pick a favorite team to follow is strange, because I actually think it’s endearing the way you love Quidditch for the sport of it rather than the team rivalry. It’s also a terrific excuse not to have to choose between Ronald’s abominable Cannons and Ginevra’s Harpies.

They said I might expect you home in a week and a half, possibly less depending on how you’re doing when the morning shift begins.

Love you, come home soon you daft Savior

D


	4. You Stubborn Twat

Harry

You’d think, living with a professional Potions Master, you’d be easier to dose on schedule at home, but you would be wrong. Why are you such a baby about taking your potions? You know they’re Healer prescribed, you know I’ve had a hand in brewing at least 80% of them because they’re more specialized than Pepper Up, and you know I’m quite skilled at measuring out dosages, but no. I’m aware that the textures and tastes are deplorable, but their purpose is to heal. If they were all easily palatable we’d have problems with people over-dosing, because people have ridiculous preferences when it comes to foods and I guarantee there would be some imbecile who’d take a bloody spoon to an entire case of burn salve if he discovered it tasted of Havarti (_it does not taste of Havarti, Harry, please don’t test it out,_ we use something entirely different for internal burn injuries, there’s a reason the salve is for external use only and not used on children).

Dean and Ginevra will be visiting us tomorrow for dinner, assuming you don’t fight your potions too strenuously beforehand, and Molly has insisted she will be coming over the following day to keep an eye on you and keep you properly potioned for me while I’m back at work to start some more infusions; I’ve quite a bit of leave available to me but even I don’t trust the other Potioneers to start these infusions for me, and they’re a bit time sensitive, but it will only be the one day and then I’ll return to pouring potions down your throat myself until you’ve finished healing.

You did seem keen on the idea of a reward if you take your potions without too much fuss tomorrow, once the Thomas's have returned home.

Love you, you stubborn twat

D


	5. You Moronic Hero

Harry

Merlin’s sweaty, wrinkled, low-hanging ballsack, what is **wrong** with you? I’ve just got home from your Muggle grocer, at your request I’ll remind you, to pick up your favorite biscuits and office tea sachets after my own long day at work, expecting to find my recovering partner lounging on our loveseat while allowing what few brain cells he has to dribble out his ears while he zones out to the tell-E, and instead I’ve found a virtually illegible note informing me you’ve been called away for an overseas operation with no end date offered.

What do you think you’re doing? The Healers wanted at least another week from work, not even wanting you to sit in the office here in London, and off you’ve gone to Morgana knows where no doubt doing things far more strenuous than smacking papers around your desk top

Did you think I’d be all right with this? I’ve spent the last two weeks tending to you, dealing with your impatient, cranky moods, bribing you with sex and tolerating all manner of Gryffindors invading our home to wish you a speedy reco

You do realize that **wishes for recovery** are not in fact **spells that assist in recovery**, do you not?

… I cleaned the kitchen. And I’ll have you know the last laugh is on you. I’ve told Molly what you’ve done.

Love you, best be seeing you soon you moronic hero

D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, a downward turn.


	6. Crucio the Prophet

Harry

Haven’t heard from you, though I suppose that shouldn’t be much of a surprise. I tend not to, when you’re on away missions, and so far, never when you’ve gone to the Continent.

Doesn’t really matter, I suppose. They’d no doubt tell me if there were a funeral to attend; they couldn’t keep something like that from the Quibbler and the Wireless (because _Crucio_ the _Prophet_, isn’t that what we always say?).

Sorry. My head’s not in a good place right now. I miss you. I’m worried about you. I’m upset that your department thought contacting you before your medical leave was over might be an acceptable thing to do. My arm hurts, and my head hurts, and not literally but certainly figuratively my heart hurts for wanting you right now. Not for a tumble, but perhaps for a cuddle.

Love you, Scarhead

D


	7. Come Home Soon

Harry

You’re still not home, and I still miss you. Hermione’s not offering any hints as to when Ronald will return, either, though she’s apparently got some news for him that she’s excited to impart. I’ve my own ideas what it might be about, and if you asked me, I might even tell you, but since you won’t because _you’re not here,_ I won’t.

I don’t care if I’m being petty right now, my arm and head still hurt and you’re still not here, you stupid Gryffindor.

Love you, come home soon

D


	8. Please Hurry Home

Harry

Another round of promotions, another year of disappointment. Well, no one is surprised.

Healer Flint (that would be Marcus’s more intelligent cousin, the one without the Troll ancestors) brought me tea and a cup of soup, and did her best to cheer me up this afternoon. She’s an alright sort, familiar with the stigma attached to being a graduated Slytherin, familiar with the stigma of her family name. Quite good with small children, and at least her career isn’t stalled out as she started at Mungo’s several years before you or I even got our Hogwarts’ letters.

We laughed over the idea of Vane (your Romilda’s younger brother, actually) being assigned Wolfsbane duty over winter hols, and then panicked just a little bit until we remembered Brookskip was the more likely potioneer to be assigned. She was often in the Wolfsbane schedule prior to my apparently otherwise permanent assignment.

Although, having December free from Wolfsbane duty won’t matter a bit if you’re not home to celebrate with me.

Love you, please hurry home

D


	9. ... Still Love You

Harry

  
  
<strike>I don’t even</strike>  
  
<strike>Apparently you’ve</strike>  
  
I’ve had to do the laundry, clean the kitchen **and** the bathroom, to maintain a coherent thought. Well done.  
  
Apparently you’re home now, and by home I mean somewhere in Britain, because you’re sure as Merlin not in our house. I suspect you’re out somewhere with Weasleys but I can’t be certain, because I’m not getting a response anywhere, be it Owl or Floo, and only a fool sends a Patronus when you might be enjoying yourself around Muggles.  
  
I know you’re not at Mungo’s, because I searched the place from top to bottom and while they might not go out of their way to inform me of your arrival, they don’t yet have the nerve to lie to my face. So at least you’re healthy, and at least you’re somewhere within the country, so I will content myself with that knowledge while I plot the consequences of your thoughtless return.  
  
I hope you’re ready for it, curse you.

  
  
…still love you, somehow  
  
D


	10. I Hope We Can

Harry

I’m spending Christmas Eve and Christmas Day alone this year, apparently. I cannot decide whether I am enraged, or heartbroken. This is probably because I’m still rather stunned at how completely by surprise I’ve been taken.

I would ask if there’s been something I’ve done to upset you, but that seems highly unlikely as I’d need to be able to interact with you some way other than notes left on the breakfast table in order to do so.

Harry, what’s going on? I’ve Owled you, tried to Floo you, and all I’ve got to show for it are impersonal notes on the table with excuses for your absence that completely ignore my attempts to contact you. You don’t even know about this book, except that you find it a fantastic place to rest your spectacles because the leather is soft enough to prevent them from sliding around.

If nothing else, I know you’re well and loved and with family. Perhaps we can celebrate the holiday when you get back from your trip to Romania. I hope we can.

love

D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something's just not right.


	11. A Potions Convention in Nice

Harry

I’ve left you a note, in the same spirit as the ones you’ve left me, but with a bit more thought put into it. I know you won’t actually care what the conference is about, but no one else in my department cares to discuss it with me and time was short once I’d been informed, so I might as well natter away at myself in here. It’s rather therapeutic, at this point.

Potions Head Preston has informed me that I’ve been selected to attend a potions convention in Nice. Apparently my grasp of the language was the final tipping point, though they had seriously considered sending Vane until the boy was caught speaking in lewd, derogatory terms of Veela quite vocally a couple of months ago. Apparently, the department would prefer not to be represented by someone with controversial opinions, or at least not by someone who would air those opinions in public. For reasons unsaid, Preston elected not to discuss the convention with me until this evening, an hour before my shift ended, the same night I’m expected to portkey out.

Yes, while I was in the middle of decanting the day’s batch of potions.

Regardless, I’ve some time to waste before my Port Key activates, and I’m packed for the weekend. I’ve brought home some of my work journals, and case studies, and I’ll probably spend tomorrow morning expanding on the outline I’ve managed to cobble together regarding the benefits found in using ethically harvested magical ingredients from creatures versus otherwise, or their non-magical counterparts. I’m not sure whether this is a good thing or not, though. My family name has already branded me (ha) with a reputation for magical bias, and while the data supports me and even Hermione would have a hard time refuting my sourcing or claims, it still sounds absolutely terrible on paper, or out of context.

At least I’ve managed to get out of accepting and quality checking this month’s shipment of bubotuber puss and flobberworms, for a change.

love you

D


	12. I Miss Cooking With You

Harry

Why was I not surprised to return home to a note informing me you’d be at the Burrow for dinner, and staying late? These Sundays, like clockwork of course, but I’m usually the one home late, well after you’ve gone to bed.

Not like I can complain, I was away and you weren’t. I’ve picked up the mess you managed to leave about the place for you, and left you my own note in return. At least we’re communicating at the table.

Five sentences or less, but it’s a back and forth, for the first time in ages.

I’ll be in to work early in the morning. Perhaps I’ll have some breakfast waiting for you once you’ve woken up in the morning. Something. I miss cooking with you. At least I can still cook **for** you.

love you

D


	13. Wondering

Harry

The ache in my arm is finally gone, and I’ll have you know it didn’t hamper my work over the months I was dealing with it. Granted, I required assistance when manually carrying heavier objects, but most things I required at work were already delivered to their proper locations, and I had no problem transporting the smaller jugs and jars and pots by hand.

You’ve called me a whinging baby over minor aches and pains and injuries, so I feel it bears mentioning.

The headache persists, but it’s not bad. I’ve begun to suspect I’m developing an allergy to something in the labs. I talked to Theo about it at tea in the canteen, and he’s said to let him know if it continues to persist a month hence.

It’s been weeks since I saw your face, now. Either I’m half asleep while you’re leaving the bedroom for work, or you’ve buried your face in your pillow to sleep, or you’re simply not home. We’ve been trading notes back and forth, but I still miss you, obviously.

Wondering how your social calendar suddenly got so full. Wondering why your calendar is so full of things that cannot occasionally include me. Wondering, secretly, if you’ve forgotten that we live together, that we share the bed, that while maintaining your relationships with family and friends you might consider setting aside some time for us.

Since you’re apparently due to spend dinner every evening this week with your friends – different nights for different couples – and Friday and the weekend touring historical Quidditch Pitches with Ronald and Ginevra, I’ve made plans to visit with Millicent on Friday, Gregory Saturday, and Blaise and Theo have conspired to drag me on a nature walk (hike, they’re dragging me on a **hike**) through … well, to be honest, I’m not actually certain where. They’ve promised there are potions ingredients there, in their natural habitat, and I’m allowed to collect what I like during our outing. They’ll feed me and we’ll catch up together, and I’ll whinge about missing you, and they’ll remind me that you love me despite being forgetful and oblivious.

Missing your absent kiss

D


	14. Please Be Careful

Harry

I had a lovely weekend with friends, thank you for asking. Millicent is happily working hard at the sanctuary Luna’s always talking about, the one that’s agreed to work with Charles’ Romanian dragon reserve and the Hebridean reserve up north. It seems Cormac MacLaggen is attempting to court her, and she’s not sure what to do about it. She’s not even sure how to feel about it. He’s still a complete troglodyte, but apparently he’s a troglodyte with a soft spot for magical creatures and sturdy Slytherin women. His interest in her has sent a truly appalling number of athletes to tour the sanctuary, which has in turn led to an appalling number of reserved tours from international athletes in the coming year, which has led to some sorely needed donations from big ticket names… probably the only reason she’s tolerating his continued presence.

But she’s happy, which is the important part.

Gregory is also faring well. You’ve probably heard about his work from Neville, and I haven’t much to add I don’t think. He’s happy to be working for Neville, and they’ve long since worked out the baggage from their school days. Gregory’s always had great respect for Neville’s work in the greenhouses and in Herbology, of course, anyone with half a brain cell quivering in their skull understood the boy was born to work with plants. Anything you’ve heard from Neville about work probably goes for Gregory as well. He’s still single, but happily so, and fending off Neville’s attempts at setting him up with Cho’s friends with good humor.

My walk with Theo and Blaise went better than I expected. The weather was pleasant, and they were true to their word – no complaints any of the five hundred times I stopped to collect ingredients. The land is owned by Blaise’s current step-father, and we got permission ahead of time. A single harvester with a single day is unlikely to do any actual damage, and I’m not stupid enough to do so. The property is vast enough that a few leaves here, a few stalks there, I was still able to collect a great deal and ensure proper harvesting technique myself.

None of this will go to Mungo’s stocks, but will allow me to experiment at home with ingredients of known provenance and in perfect condition. They laughed at my high spirits, but were perfectly willing to help me when it came to obtaining samples from more difficult to reach locations – high in the air, in a crevasse, along the interior of a long abandoned and dry well. Simple spells for sending me through the air stabilized by their joint casting at angles. I was very well behaved, I’ll have you know, tolerating swoops and dives without a peep of complaint.

It was a day of levity, one I’ve sorely needed.

We did discuss you a bit. They weren’t sure what to say. We elected to stop discussing you, and continued on our walk, collecting happiness into my jars and pouches, pretending I wasn’t trying to compensate for what my home life has been lacking for months.

I’m becoming bitter again. It was work, being fit for company this weekend. I know Pansy would say I’m never anything other than obnoxious, but she’d say it with a grin and a hug, and maybe she’d offer to select my outfits for the next few days to make up for it.

I don’t even know where you are, now. I saw your away bag in the bathroom, partially unpacked with your toiletries scattered about again and your dirty clothes partially exhumed, but your leather duffle is gone and a quarter of your clothes are missing from the closet. There wasn’t even a note on the table this time.

What are you doing, Harry? Where have you gone? Will you be safe? Will you be careful? Do you have anyone to watch your back? Do you trust them? 

Love you, please be careful

D


	15. You Thoughtless Fuck

Harry

I’ve been chosen to travel to Malaysia next month, after how well my presentation was received last autumn, as well as the Congo the following month. In between they want me to stop in Lebanon and Egypt and Milan. I’ll be gone three consecutive weeks. I’ll leave notes. I don’t know whether you’ll be home again before I go, but I expect I wouldn’t be here to catch you even if you were.

Love you, you thoughtless fuck

D


	16. Everywhere Was Hot

Harry

You haven’t been back, but someone else made a pass through for you. I can tell, you know, when it’s you and when it isn’t. I’m not sure who it was, though the magic was somewhat familiar. I honestly don’t pay attention to the details of the magic of people I’m not particularly close to, so it could be any of your friends or co-workers. Whoever it is, it wasn’t you.

The taste of your magic is fading, here. It’s fresher on the dirty laundry you and your friend left behind, but even that is faint because you’re not using your magic on the clothing itself so much as on your work robes which all seem to be with you right now – other than your ceremonial Auror robes, that is.

Should I be pleased that you think this home enough that you’re content to leave your laundry to me? That you haven’t simply cleared your belongings from the property and vanished?

It made for a cold homecoming. None of the notes I left remained, so whoever you sent for your things apparently found every one of them. I suppose they brought them to you.

Malaysia was hot. Everywhere was hot. Some of it was hot and dry. Amazing, the difference in temperature once we leave our wondrous island nation. One nice thing, travelling internationally: I end my days with fewer bruises and am highly unlikely to have needed to clean spit from my clothing. People, strangers, smile at me. People look me in the eye. Well, besides Healer Flint and a few choice medi-wix and (obviously) my childhood friends.

Love

D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The term "wix" as reference to multiple magical people rather than specifying sex/gender was inspired by disillusionist9, specifically in their story February 15th (a lovely tale, one I always enjoy re-reading). In particular, I've never liked having to choose between Mediwitch or Mediwizard, and this seemed like the simplest way to handle it. I don't know whether this is a term strictly used by disillutionist9, though their Ch5 Note indicated it probably isn't... I'm unclear as to the etiquette required in this instance, but wanted the proper attribution included. If I need to make changes, kindly let me know.


	17. Where

Harry

Where’ve you gone?

L

D


	18. Lurking

Harry

Theo hunted me down in the canteen, asked about my headaches. Still a problem, yes. Actually getting worse, no. Persistent, though, and in the same place. He’s written me in for a visit next Tuesday, which will have to be during my lunch break because it’s Wolfsbane time again and all my travel has apparently put Mungo’s behind on a variety of staple potions they can’t do without.

What the bloody fuck are the other potioneers doing with their time? Vane seems to be spending all of _his_ lurking around the Maternity ward, pretending to do research on needs that new mothers aren’t having met to their satisfaction. That would be fine, except that, as far as I can tell, he’s done literally nothing with the lists of concerns these witches have other than pile them up in a drawer that also boasts empty candy wrappers and several partially used, variously scented lubricants.

Before you ask, it’s because he waved me over to his desk to pull out the work order he’d written up, as well as the one he’d been given, without having the decency to leave them somewhere reasonable (they were crumpled up in the pocket of last week’s day robes, which he’d left hung from his cloak rack just inside the private office that came with his promotion).

Love you

D


	19. Wish

Harry

Merlin. I wish you were here. Can’t write it down. Makes it real.

love

D


	20. Hold Me

Harry

Apparently I’m not well. Someone’s used a ritual based curse, it’s targeted anyone with a Dark Mark who isn’t a long term resident of Azkaban. I am not the only free but Marked recipient, and my diagnosis was what tipped the balance toward the Healers realizing the curse was one with a broad base, rather than personally targeted.

They’ve put in a report with the Aurors, so I suppose eventually you might learn about it, though I doubt you’ll be allowed on the case if only because Ronald is aware of our relationship and wouldn’t let you get away with that conflict of interest. <strike>Can’t say how hard the team assigned to the case will work on it though. I’m sure there are a number within your department that wouldn’t mind gathering the data and simply waiting for my kind to die off before moving forward with apprehending the</strike>

Theo gave me a week to inform everyone. After that, he’s

I don’t know what he’s going to do, only that he’s made the threat to tell them if I haven’t. Which is ridiculous, I can tell everyone. Well. I can tell everyone but you. Still no response to my Owls, still unable to reach you through the Floo, even during your Weasley Sundays, which, the longer this has gone on, the harder it is to pretend this complete silence on your part doesn’t have something to do with at least one of them.

Rather not try to imagine who. Thought we’d all come to terms with the past. Don’t want suspicion to poison my feelings for the whole clan. Going to be difficult, considering my history with the Weasleys. Probably harder, because I thought <strike>I’d finally earned</strike> <strike>we’d finally reached</strike> things seemed… peaceable.

love you, wish you would hold me

D


	21. I Had You To Come Home To

Harry

They’ve set up a rota wherein I have dinner with someone every evening. I nearly threw a fit, til Pansy pointed out that I’ve been spending too much time alone outside of work. It was fine that I didn’t see them regularly before, but at least I had you to come home to.

Now I don’t, and I’m ill.

She also reminded me that now they all had a perfectly good reason to worry about me, and didn’t want me to be one of those people you read about in morbid tales long after the fact – some poor sod with no one to love them or care, found years after their death. Well alright, not actual years, but weeks, likely only unearthed from the dust because bill collectors had finally come to pay a visit.

So there will be someone to check on me once a day, someone to make sure I’m feeding myself, someone to make sure I’m getting a few hours of sleep each night.

I’m telling myself that what you’re doing is important. House sitting for Ronald and Hermione, apparently, and going to Quidditch matches with Oliver, and goodwill trips on the Continent (according to Pansy, who still takes the Prophet because she’s a massive bitch who finds its articles entertaining), and substituting for the Defense professor at Hogwarts. Kidnapping rings, potions rings, assassination plots, Muggle baiting gangs, as well.

Should I be feeling jealous? I can’t decide. Of some of them, clearly, no.

I love you, Harry

D


	22. Looking Forward

Harry

Spoke to Hermione the other day after encountering her in Diagon. She expressed some surprise that I hadn’t heard you’d been hospitalized overnight last month, and was stunned to realize I’ve been trying to contact you for so long with no response. She promised to make sure you took the time to Floo me this coming Sunday.

It’s a bit pathetic, but I’m excited. I miss you, Harry, so much. I miss your smell in bed. I miss the way you dribble your toothpaste in the bathroom sink and invariably miss half of it when you try to rinse it down the drain. I miss the careful way you prepare cheese toasties. I miss bickering with you. I miss running my fingers through your hair, down the dip in your back just above your arse. I miss the way you tell me I’m neurotic with my need for order in the kitchen and my sock drawer. I miss tripping over your bloody dragonhide boots at the front door, because tripping over them means you’ve come home.

I’m looking forward to seeing you again, even if I won’t be able to touch you.

Gregory is happy for me. He came over and fed me a roast beef and vegetables. We talked about work, and avoided talking about the curse.

Tomorrow, Blaise visits, with the promise that he’s found an absolutely amazing Peruvian place he’d like to introduce me to.

Love you

D


	23. sorsy

Harry

im really just so tred nd

m head won’t stop hrting and

i

fel so unloved

unwanted

where are yo?

im sorsy for whateve i did

pleasecoome back

love yu

d


	24. Why the Fuck Not

Harry

Your name at the beginning of these entries is clearly a formality, a habit. I’m no longer writing to Harry Potter, because Harry Potter is someone with nothing to do with me. Perhaps I’ll name this book Harry. Why the fuck not, no one else will ever know.

Work’s been shit. Still doing the bulk of the brewing. I come home for dinner, then go back to get more work done. Makes it easier to fall asleep afterward, gives me less time to obsess over how shit my life is right now. It’s helping me get this ridiculously long back log of brewing taken care of. My head still hurts, and now every throb reminds me that I am hated.

I have some of the best friends in the world. There are no words to describe how glad I am that they all managed to escape being Marked. Pansy and Millicent were the least at risk, as witches, but the risk was always there. Their parents weren’t mad enough to place them in such a position, in any case. Blaise was occasionally at risk, it depended on who his step-father was at any given moment. I understand his mother wasn’t terribly keen on the torture and murder and mayhem and lipservice of Pureblood superiority while tearing nearly as deep a swath through Pureblood families as he did Muggleborn, Half-Bloods and Blood Traitors. Theo and Gregory, though, were more at risk than the others. Neither of their fathers were as power hungry, or as great a failure, as my father. Vincent… well, Vincent never made it, did he?

None of us were cut out for torture. Yes, I was an infantile, bullying prat in school, and yes, I encouraged Gregory to take out his anger at the world in general on <strike>yo </strike> <strike>Pott</strike> Harry, but those were school age misbehaviors. I couldn’t even kill my Headmaster when my mother’s life hung in the balance, I never wanted to actually

Oh alright, yes, very early on I did want to permanently maim <strike>Harr </strike> <strike>P </strike> Harry, but only in the way any intelligent pre-teen wants to permanently damage a fellow schoolmate; knowing it was unreasonable and not something I would like the actual consequences of (personally, socially, emotionally). More than anything else I just wanted Father’s approval, so I did what I knew could please him. Or attempted to.

Pansy consoled me after I Flooed her last night. She spent the entire night here, and we slept on the couch because I don’t want to sleep in that bed any more. Plots were hatched, feet were rubbed, nails were done (her nails; mine don’t change as often as hers do). She suggested I see about taking time off work. I reminded her that soon enough, it looked as though I wouldn’t be able to work at all. I’d like to spend what time I’ve left over a cauldron. It’s all I’m good for, apparently, and I’m _damn_ good at it, and it allows me to help virtually everyone, in some small way. She fed me some hot cocoa and tucked me in. So tired.

D


	25. you bloody thoughtless

Harry

Fuck you and fuck Weasley and fuck everyone you bloody thoughtless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, still not the shortest


	26. Devote Myself

Harry

Blaise reminded me that if I love brewing so much, and with the limited time I seem to have left, I should consider quitting my job and instead devote myself to experimentation.

So I have. Turned in my resignation, collected my belongings from the locker they graciously assigned me years ago that now only interns and very junior assistants are supposed to be stuck with, and spent the rest of my day wandering the corridors of Mungo’s. I took a page from Vane’s book and told people I wanted to know how the hospital’s brewers could better serve them. Most of them weren’t bright enough to understand what that meant, so I had to simplify it for them – were there untended pains? Was their skin dry? Were they having vision, hearing, sensory problems of any kind? Was the medicinal smell of their room upsetting? Were they sleeping well enough? Any complaint, really, they had about their stay or visit to hospital. Might as well leave it up to me to figure out whether there was anything a Potions Master might come up with to resolve their issue.

The Maternity Ward mediwix were suspicious, considering how useless Vane has proven himself under the guise of intended assistance, but it seems the questions and answers I was offering set their fears to rest. I was less interested in ogling or man-handling their patients and more interested in hearing their answers and making notes.

I would consider trying to improve upon Wolfsbane, but really, that’s a conundrum for someone with a great deal more time to devote to the issue. People have spent lifetimes toward that end, many of those before it was even properly successful.

It seems more likely that I can create a superior analgesic salve for the elderly witch with arthritis in Spell Damage, or a Cinnamon variant of Pepper Up, or something to dull someone’s sensitivity to the ambient magic in the air.


	27. It's Just Hard

Harry

Hermione Owled me. It’s only been two months, but something apparently reminded her that she never did manage to personally get your head jammed into the Floo that day. She asked whether I’d heard from you, as though she wasn’t actually sure. Did she try to get someone else to do it for her?

Haven’t decided whether or not to respond. Haven’t really got the energy to figure out how to word a polite response, anymore. Not sure it matters, at this point. Not sure I want to hear from you, or want to hear how utterly forgettable I am. I

I shouldn’t think badly of you, I know that. I shouldn’t think badly of your friends, either. They’ve supported you longer than I have, certainly. They got you through a war.

It’s just hard.

I’m glad I’ve known you. I’m glad I had something to offer you, for a time.


	28. Harry

Harry

Happy anniversary


	29. Sorry

Harry

So much I want to tell you all about the breakthroughs Ive managed in the little basement lab Blaise has been letting me use Its been so long since I wrote in here so many things I could have

Not important anymore

Theos decided its no longer safe for me to live unattended I cant hold anything properly so I cant brew anymore Stirring rods knives pestles the ingredients themselves I can barely use my wand I have to write so slowly just to keep this legible

always so tired

Gregory and Blaise packing my things

With Blaise now

love you, Harry

ill miss you sorry

D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly done. Thank you for giving this a look.


	30. Dear Draco, Love Harry

Dear Draco,

I’m back, sweetheart, and we’re going to figure this out. I am so, so unutterably sorry. There are no words for how sorry I am that you’ve had to go through so much of this with so little support. I know your friends have been here for you as soon as they realized what was going on, but for the months even before that, I am sorry.

We’ve figured out a way to reconnect you and other victims to the newer relationships in your lives; wearable accessories with your magical signature that can be worn at all times has made it possible for people like Hermione and Molly to regain and retain their concern for your wellbeing. I’ve chosen one of your rings, one Pansy assures me wasn’t so dear you’d be leery of someone else wearing it.

Originally, I lived with this journal attached to myself, one way or another. Mostly held with both hands, sometimes tucked against my stomach, sometimes under my arm… I’m frankly still a bit leery of letting it out of my sight. Theo and Millicent have sworn to keep an eye on me now that I’ve switched linking objects, and know where to find this journal should the ring somehow not prove effective enough.

Hermione’s stolen one of your hair ties, and Molly has stuck with one of our earliest link attempts, a “friendship” bracelet with some of your hair woven in. She actually came here to craft it at your bedside, her collection of embroidery thread and a weaving board in a basket while Pansy selected a few strands of hair from your brush. Because it’s Molly, it’s more of a “friendship cuff” than a bracelet, but it’s quite lovely, if I may say so. She made it in shades of blue and grey, with ripples of palest yellow. Once she’d completed her own, she made a series of quick and dirty bracelets for the rest of the family.

There are no words for how deeply I’ve missed you, Draco. How I’ve missed daydreaming about what you might be doing at home, how I’ve missed fantasizing about what trouble we could get up to once I’d returned. Tuning out your nagging, cooking together, helping you find the missing match to your socks, listening to you go on about your day, wrapping you up in my arms and breathing in your scent. I even missed Molly asking after you, and her pressing recipes into my hands as I was leaving Sunday dinners with her with ideas for meals we could prepare together.

Whoever did this to you, they’ve destroyed the happiness of people who aren’t even aware they’re missing anything.

I’ve spoken with Robards, and we’ve fashioned something for him to wear, as well as enough for several Auror teams to outfit themselves with until this case is solved. You were correct, of course, in that I’m not allowed to work on the case, but you underestimated Robards’ dedication to repairing the Auror Department’s reputation as far as political favoritism goes.

Perhaps you’d be interested in this: Robards was aware of this sort of magic, and mentioned it being very old, and very illegal, because it circumvents the law. It actually upset him that anyone felt the need to try to inflict their personal vendetta this way.

Somewhat related, the reason there’d been no case progress prior to my locating this journal was split between the sabotaging nature of the curse, as well as the Unspeakables somehow misleading the assigned Auror team into believing the case had been passed along. That is not the case, and Robards is pretty chuffed he’ll be able to take Croaker up on the matter at some point. He’s also probably looking forward to solving it first, as he has doubts Mysteries has access to the personal effects of any of the victims, nor would they retrieve it before the curse itself manages to make it slip their mind.

I should be sleeping, at this point. It’s been a long day. Your friends have been amazing champions for your cause.

I’ll see you tomorrow, love,

Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried out a couple of different ways to follow up Draco's final (?) entry, and this was the one that I wound up preferring. There's more to it, obviously, and I wound up having to pick and choose what Harry elected to include in his first entry into the journal.
> 
> Harry's discovery of the book makes more sense when given context, but I don't feel Harry's entry in the book would delve very deeply into that experience. I hope to one day return to this with an entry that perhaps does that experience justice, or perhaps a one-off or two in another format entirely, making this a lopsided series.
> 
> We'll see.
> 
> Thank you (again!) for taking the time to read this. I'm happy with the majority of it; I know I probably spent more time making this a "poor Draco" work than I needed to, but that's part of what the impulse drove me toward, and I'm glad I was able to get this particular flavor of "poor Draco" out of my system. 
> 
> Take care of yourself, and have an awesome day (or night!).

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for happy endings, so while this ends on a question mark, know that "officially" this fic ultimately isn't intended to be a tragedy. I have the building blocks for why and how this happened to Draco and Harry, but not enough to have crafted a satisfying, shareable tale around it just yet. It's not my intention to leave the reader hanging, and with my own knowledge of what I've already written (but not shared) there are probably more loose threads to this tale than I've intended.
> 
> Let me know what loose threads I may have left in the comments (well, other than "WHO DID THIS TO MY PRECIOUS MUFFINS?!"). I've been writing this tale on and off for ages, and read and re-read it so many times, I know I've forgotten which threads I've worked into my own head-canon, and which hang lost and untethered.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read, I hope you'll have an awesome day/night!


End file.
